


Jump the Gap

by sterlinglee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Datekou, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlinglee/pseuds/sterlinglee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being 191 centimeters tall with a resting face like a slab of granite is just fine when you're the cornerstone of the "Iron Wall."  For going out in public, not so much.  No one wants to sit next to Aone on the train, so Futakuchi, who can't resist a captive audience anyway, takes matters into his own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump the Gap

A middle-aged lady in a business suit gives him a leery aside glance and swerves toward the other end of the train car, and Aone tries to take up a little less space. It doesn’t work. He’s already compacted as far as nature and cheaply molded plastic bucket seating will allow, his backpack nestled under his chin and his feet together. Ever since he boarded, the window row he’s sitting in has stayed empty.

A trio of middle schoolers scrambles on board as the doors whoosh shut. They head for the window row, but draw up short as they see him. He catches the words “…like two whole meters, I _swear!_ ” as they adjust course for the clustered seats at the rear corner.

He shuffles his feet and hears the seat creak uneasily. Fifteen more minutes to school. He’s used to this. 

Two more stops pass. A jogger, an old man with a sneezing cocker spaniel, and a handful of other Datekou students get on, spot Aone, and give him a wide berth. The opposite window seats fill up, and a few people seat themselves warily at the far end of Aone’s row. He fiddles with his phone and tries to remember if he has any classes with the guys swinging on the stirrup handles down the way.

At the next stop, the pneumatic doors hiss apart to reveal someone he’s never seen on the train before. He’s almost done assembling the words, _Futakuchi, you live on this line too?_ when his teammate, who can fire off two insults, a random observation, and a bad idea in the time it takes him to formulate a single reply, says, “Ah, Aone! You ride the train to school, huh? My dad’s car broke down, so I had to run for the station.”

Business lady gives Futakuchi a look. When you have to talk on the train, you keep your voice down, and you definitely don’t openly address No Eyebrows Scary Thug over there. Also, it has been said by many people of sound judgment (not Aone, Aone keeps his mouth shut) that Futakuchi’s voice is really grating. It is possible Futakuchi knows this, and has practiced projecting.

Futakuchi steps over the platform gap and onto the train, but before Aone can say something nice and normal and nonthreatening like, _Yeah, I live really near the station_ , he sees a change stealing across his teammate’s deceptively boyish face. 

Futakuchi’s lips pinch together, and he goes all flat-eyed and calculating as he glances around the train car, noting the conspicuous gap that’s formed around No Eyebrows Underage Gang Enforcer. Apparently, he has grasped the seating situation.

Aone knows—Futakuchi is kind of an asshole. When he gets that look he’s like a street cat with its ears laid back, about to show the claws underneath the knockoff velvet. He’s only glad these people are all strangers, because if you’re someone Futakuchi knows then you can count on him having enough ammo to deliver a high-caliber headshot to your self-esteem, complete with a double tap if he’s in the mood to win.

Futakuchi strolls forward, honest to God _strolls_ even though the train car itself can't be more than a couple strides across. Long legs, ostentatious, no end of embarrassing. He plants himself right next to Aone, despite the fact that no cheaply molded plastic bucket seat in the history of locomotive design has ever been able to comfortably hold two teenage boys side by side. Aone starts to sweat. All signs indicate that his teammate is about to kick it to a higher gear.

“Sooo, I heard your sister finally had her baby, right?” Futakuchi blares charmingly. Heads turn despite themselves. “You got any pictures on your phone? Tell me there’s one of you holding the kid, I wanna see.”

“Ah, um. Yeah. Just a sec.” Aone flicks through his gallery and hands his phone over, deciding now is not the time to ask just how his teammate knew Satomi was pregnant in the first place. 

Futakuchi examines the photos, and Aone suppresses a flicker of amusement as he goes quiet for a moment, racking his brain for something complimentary to say about the baby. Futakuchi is an only child. He’s not sure why he knows this, but it does explain some things.

“Spitting image of your sis,” Futakuchi announces, regaining his momentum. So he doesn’t know Satomi’s name, at least. And then, his eyes sparkling with something that makes Aone very uncomfortable, “just look at the way you’re holding him! I bet you’ll make a cool uncle, you can scare the shit out of all his enemies.” Futakuchi is the only person who assumes that a child less than two months old is inevitably going to have enemies.

Someone from the pack of Datekou students calls Futakuchi’s name, and he turns to greet a few people Aone’s seen passing in the halls. “You guys gearing up for the Inter-High?” someone asks, which necessitates a detour into some sports tournament chatter as the train rounds a bend. Aone puts his bag down by his feet so he can lean over and see the pictures Futakuchi took when he went to Enoshima to visit his aunt. Waves roll sparkling against the stone pilings in those pictures, and the sky is very blue.

Futakuchi natters on for the rest of the train ride. Everything out of his mouth is inane and easy and everyday, delivered in an unconsciously loud tone of voice that makes people glance over in irritation and grudging curiosity. He can carry a conversation all by himself, or near about. Aone has been grateful for this plenty of times. And today, he realizes he isn’t No Eyebrows Steroidal Teenage Giant any more. The old man with the dog has stopped gripping his bag like he’s expecting to have it stolen. Aone is the guy stuck sitting next to That Loud Kid.

There’s one thing, though: Aone _knows_ that Futakuchi isn’t one of those people with no indoor voice (that’s Kamasaki). He can hiss nasty words like a whiplash, sing out obliging and utterly insincere to a scolding teacher, he can call Aone’s name with the full measure of his passion and breath on the court. 

It probably doesn’t show on his face, but Aone is smiling a little. When Futakuchi wants to shove the world around to his point of view, he finds a lever.

“Those girls who came to watch our last practice were pretty cute, huh?” Futakuchi says, gliding on before Aone can decide whether or not that’s worth an answer. “Especially that one with the side bangs, she was watching our good captain like she knew what she was after. I bet that gets Kamasaki-san pretty upset.” 

He smirks, obviously imagining his teammate’s future struggles with high blood pressure. Aone stays silent, but shows Futakuchi one of his outspread hands, which resembles a gardening spade in shape, size, and brutal effectiveness. Futakuchi—Futakuchi’s face, really—is very familiar with their captain’s go-to method of managing team conflict.

Futakuchi looks down at his hand, taken aback for only a moment before shooting him a wicked grin because often enough, whether or not Aone talks is incidental to Futakuchi getting the joke. Futakuchi is kind of an asshole, Aone knows. But he resists the urge to shove him over into the next bucket seat, and instead leans over to see the latest weird news story he’s pulled up on his phone. The train mounts an elevated track, climbing into sunlight, and rolls on.

**Author's Note:**

> the "current concern" listed in aone's character bio is that no one will sit near him on the train (sharp pangs through the heart, anyone?)


End file.
